Mine Would Be You
by GarryxMrChairFan
Summary: "What's the one regret you can't work through?" Roderich has only one answer. PruAus, Human!AU, OOC. I don't even know, guys.


_**Mine Would Be You**_

~GarryxMrChairFan :3

**Customary Disclaimer: **Any and all recognizable _Hetalia _characters © Himaruya Hidekaz.

_Mine Would Be You ©_ Blake Shelton and its writers.

* * *

The mangled squawk of piano keys being forcefully pounded on in anger filled the room, quite a transition from the slow melody wafting from the delicate instrument moments before. Heavy breaths fell from the lips of its player, a burning in the back of deep violet irises as pale hands fell away, coming to rest loosely in his lap.

Roderich sighed deeply, staring blankly at the mix of ebony and ivory keys of his most treasured possession, the dark mahogany wood glinting faintly in the high afternoon sun falling through the open bay windows. His dark hair was being gently tossed to and fro in the cool early summer breeze, caressing his face beneath his glasses, bringing to mind a memory, a flash of strong hands and long fingers that had done just the same not long ago.

With a violent shake of his head, the Austrian shoved himself from his piano, forcing the imagery out of his mind and the feeling from his senses.

"Stop it," he ordered himself, walking with purposeful strides from the music room. "This is pathetic, reminiscing on _him_! You're the one that walked out; why are you thinking of _him?_"

Roderich ignored the pang in his chest at the reminder to himself, slowing his hurried walk to nowhere in particular and coming to a halt in the middle of his hallway. He grimaced at the floor, feeling the familiar stinging behind his eyes again and closing them tightly. He wouldn't cry. He _couldn't _cry –

He didn't _deserve_ to cry.

With a ragged breath, the dark-haired composer continued his trek through his home, feeling hot trails streak his cheeks anyway, the betraying drops sliding slowly to his chin. Roderich approached the staircase and descended fluidly, his steps silent, though he supposed they should be in nothing more than a pair of ankle socks. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror, noting his disturbingly unrefined choice of clothing.

He hadn't been dressing consciously, and to call it obvious was a gross understatement. Roderich had apparently decided shoes were no longer necessary, simply walking around in mismatched socks, today's being one in black and the other in white. Not too extreme, he supposed, but perhaps a slight cause for a questioning gaze. His lithe legs were clad in tight jeans of a charcoal color, and those were a bit more concerning; he never usually wore anything less than slacks.

His upper body was probably the most shocking, covered with a plain white T-shirt and swathed in a deep royal purple hoodie whose arms hung a good few inches past his hands. It was casual – _extremely _casual; it was practically homeless compared to the pressed collared shirts and waistcoats and cravats he normally donned.

Roderich thought it adequate, considering his mood. He _felt _homeless.

Snorting dismally to himself, the Austrian continued through his home once again, entering the kitchen and heading straight for his cabinets, rifling through them until he found the proper necessities for brewing tea. Perhaps that would calm his frying synapses.

Once the kettle was on to boil, he turned and left the kitchen, making his way to the front door, absently noting the thundering silence and depressing emptiness of his home. The air normally filled with the cheerful laughter of a certain Italian and the exasperated scolding of said Italian's boyfriend, with the squealing of his long-time friend and the boisterous and obnoxious laughter of _him _was eerily still, the only sounds coming from the ancient grandfather clock situated near the foyer.

Roderich pushed it all to the back of his mind as he stepped outside, shielding his eyes from the onslaught of sunlight as he slowly stumbled down the drive to the mailbox, reaching into it to retrieve the day's mail. He just as slowly walked back to his house, apathetically glancing through the multitude of envelopes in his hands.

_Junk. _He slid the envelope advertising some credit card to the end of the pile.

_Bill. _The OG&E logo had caught his eye, and he turned the envelope long-ways before sliding it to the end.

_Bill. _Verizon. He really needed to get rid of this one; he never used his cell phone anyway. It was slid to the back anyway, in similar fashion to his utilities bill.

_Junk. Junk. Junk. _Roderich frowned at these; it's not like he'd ever been to a casino. Why did Riverwind insist that he needed free play anyway?

Entering his home yet again, the Austrian tossed the junk envelopes into the nearest garbage bin, making his way into the kitchen just as the kettle began whistling and tossing the bills onto the counter as he grabbed a cup, filling it with the boiling water and setting in a teabag. He was in no mood to do anything fancier, and he leaned against the granite countertop as the tea steeped, the water drawing its flavor.

As the pleasant aroma wafted to his nose, Roderich looked out the window of the kitchen, gazing with sad eyes to the veranda where he would sit and read, sipping his tea as he settled against a warm chest, arms just as warm encasing him protectively and caressing his sides.

Roderich really needed to stop dwelling on those memories. It was his fault – _his decision _– that ended it all in the first place, so the fact he was still so strung up about it was absurd.

Turning to the counter, he glanced at the radio sitting dutifully in its place, waiting to find him a song that fit his mood. With a sigh, Roderich reached over and turned it on, letting it pick up a station as he leaned back against the counter and sipped slowly from his tea.

_What's your all-time high, your good as it gets?  
__Your hands-down best ever make-up sex?  
__What's your guilty pleasure, your ol' go-to?_

_Well, if you asked me, mine would be you. _

Roderich snorted into his drink. _Country? I don't remember ever putting the thing on that station. _Regardless, he let his head fall back against the cabinets, listing to the song.

_What's your worst hangover, your best night yet?  
__Your 90 proof, your Marlboro red?  
__The best damn thing you lucked into?_

_Well, that's easy, girl: mine would be you._

Roderich tilted his head, starting to listen more closely to the lyrics instead of letting them fall in one ear and out again

_Mine would be you  
__Sun keeps shining, back road flying  
__Singing like crazy fools, making up our own words  
__Laughing 'til it hurts.  
__Baby, if I had to choose my best day ever  
__My finest hour, my wildest dream come true_

_Mine would be you._

Roderich's grip tightened on his cup as images of his own time spent in a passenger seat and heading down deserted back roads spilled into his mind. The sun was always high in the sky, fading slowly into the golden glow of evening as the wind whipped his hair around, the obnoxious laughter he found so endearing teasing him from his left.

Those days lasted forever.

_What's your double-dare, your go all in?  
__The craziest thing you ever did?  
__Plain as your name in this tattoo._

_Look on my arm, mine would be you._

The Austrian subconsciously reached across his chest, his right hand gripping his left shoulder. Only one other person besides himself knew of the ink on his back, a gorgeous and delicate depiction of his favorite flower – an edelweiss – on his left shoulder blade, the stem following his spine to his lower back in a deep midnight blue.

Prussian _blue, __dummkopf. It's _Prussian _blue; awesome like me, ja?_

There was no holding back the tears this time.

_Mine would be you  
__Sun keeps shining, back road flying  
__Singing like crazy fools, making up our own words  
__Laughing 'til it hurts  
__Baby, if I had to choose my best day ever  
__My finest hour, my wildest dream come true_

_Mine would be you_

By this time, the Austrian had collapsed to the hard tile floor, hot tears streaming down his cheeks in a never-ending stream, dripping from his chin and into his hair as he leaned his head back, letting the music wash over him and silently singing along with it in his mind.

_What's the greatest chapter in your book?  
__Are there pages where it hurts to look?  
__What's the one regret you can't work through?  
__You got it, baby, mine would be you._

_Yeah, you got it baby, mine would be you._

_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, _he thought desperately, curling up on the tiles, his head in his hands and his tea forgotten on the floor, the liquid running along the marbled laminate. _I was so stupid. I was so stupid. _

_Why was I so stupid? _

Roderich couldn't answer that question.

_Mine would be you  
__Tail lights fading, daylight breaking  
__Standing there like a fool when I should've been running  
__Yelling out something to make you wanna hold on to the best love ever  
__Girl, can you tell me the one thing you'd rather die than lose?_

Roderich could only think of one thing he'd willing give his life for in order to keep; _he _was no longer his to have, though. He'd walked out – left _him _because he felt what? Neglected? Unimportant?

He couldn't tell anymore.

_'Cause mine would be you._

"Mine is you," he muttered, violet eyes red as he looked up, the wall across from him still and cold, hard and unfeeling. "Mine will always be you, Gilbert. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

_Mine would be you._

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**_Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated! Leave your thoughts: good, bad and everything in between. If I get enough requests for a follow-up, I may go ahead and do Gilbert's POV. Let me know if you'd like to see that or not. _**

**_Much love. :3  
~GarryxMrChairFan_**


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